Unforgivable Habits
by Renzin
Summary: She's caught up in the wrong crowd, and won't accept consequences-they just don't apply to her. It's all for the euphoric, painfully quick rush of getting a kick out of life, but eventually, she runs into enemies of her own gang. For some reason, they think they have a say in what she does. They're all too invested in a girl that wants them to burn.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, only this storyline, my OCs and my artwork.**

So I finally stumbled into TMNT yet again, however this time, I'm armed with a plot and ready to rumble!

 _Vroom vroom._

Several announcements before we begin tonights feature:

1) Yes guys, it is the dreaded OC (cue screams, distant thunder and lightning) and for once, they aren't any aliens around like my other fics, just the good ol' turtle gang ( _yet)._

2) While this will be an eventually romance, there is a pretty extensive storyline for this one, and the flame will burn _sloooowww._ If you want, have a guess at the pairing :D

3) The ninja dudes won't fall into our protagonist's lap (or vice versa) a couple of scenes into this one, because baby, we've got some character development going on, and quite frankly, I want there to a smidgen of reality to face off random luck and convenience that are so _stealthily_ common.

Thank you ladies and gentlemen, your exits are here and here. Please turn off your phones (unless you're reading _this_ on them of course) and enjoy the show. ;)

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Unforgivable Habits

Prologue

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 _"You can't get away from yourself by moving from one place to another."_  
― Ernest Hemingway, _The Sun Also Rises_

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She chewed on her index knuckle, her blunt teeth tracing the ridges of bone under skin. It was a practice of hers to do when she wasn't moving a lot; like many people, a lack of anything worth enough to dedicate her attention upon made her tense and agitated.

Some tapped their fingers, others spoke endless nonsense; but for her, the mouth always had to be occupied. When she was younger, she chewed her hair until her parents broke such behaviour; then it was her thumb and nails, and after having to deal with braces and painfully short cuticles, knuckles became her next meal.

They were scarred and calloused like a grinding stone, as were her fingers and the areas of her palm that were essential for a tight grip. But she liked it that way; each crevice and wrinkle spoke of her life, her hardships and greatest feats.

She didn't like to think of it as a nervous habit, but rather as a way to remind herself that she was ok. Really, it was more like a kiss than chewing. Wasn't it good to give yourself some love once in a while?

"I have to say Valentina, I will miss you dearly. Our time together was important to me." The older lady smiled with practiced control, the crinkled shape a mirror image of every other one she pulled. Her clothes were grey and modest much like the rest of her, the only eye catching feature being a red lacquer name tag with the fading name 'Helena Wilson'.

In reality, she was a woman barely into her fifties, with 2 loud children and a loved husband that brightened her worn mask after every long day. However entering her workplace, even waking to a working morning in her profession seemed to pull a thick fog over this existence. "You been through a lot, and I _know_ it hasn't been easy. But you've still got to stay strong and remember everything we've talked about."

The tips of the girls teeth started to dig in deeper, the throb of blood vessels squealing under the heightened pressure.

"I can understand why you agreed to leaving when the opportunity arose. While I worry that another sudden habitual change may be too...jarring, I hope that being around family again will calm you down."

Wilson's carbon smile faltered, though she was used to the lack of response. She watched the tangled form of the young girl in front of her with some concoction of pity and resentment. Valentina Morani had her entire life ahead of her, and yet the actions of her parents were shaping her path even now. Everything had changed with one slip of their entire game.

Their daughter was somewhat hollow looking, resembling the statues of a grave yard with her dead eyes and cupid features, yet perhaps one day she'd awake to be a beauty. Wilson internally grimaced, the change barely leaving her eyes. So many others were in far worse situations, though it wasn't the easiest time for her patient. And yet she sat in front of her, aged and passionless like she had seen years of life and decided that it was all pointless.

Of course, there had been some improvement. Wilson hadn't made it this far in her career without having her own handy methods. She had dealt with teen cases before, and while the girl was only 12, Wilson found it more productive to treat her like an older child - she certainly had the mind set for a grumpy teenager.

When Morani first arrived she was a mess; a foul mouth that seemed to cut deep without uttering anything that technically was a curse word (she knew her way around rules like a snake), demanding glares and on several occasions Wilson had left their sessions in a flurry after having been spat at. Morani's mother was of southern asian decent; despite running away from her home country, she had been well educated, but it seemed that the daughter had picked up several choice threats from the culture. A particularly common one involved stabbing a needle several hundred times in Wilson's eye. While fairly interesting if not an inherent reminder of voodoo, they were _not_ to be tolerated.

However drastic measures weren't needed in the end. At the end of the elder Moranis trial, Valentina had become this cracked shell, empty and non responsive. Her once fiery glares were blank and accusing despite the drained emotion, but perhaps they only had this effect on Wilson; after all, little progress had been made.

And now her patient of under 7 months was attending her final session, packed and bound for a new home over seas with relatives that had never met Valentina. There was something to be desired on the finality of this particular case.

Wilson observed the girl again, mildly pleased to note that she hadn't drawn blood again from all her incessant chewing. After another moment of silent deliberation, she cleared her throat. "Valentina...There is no shame in admitting everything is _not_ alright. Sometimes, we can create wonders...if we simply excavate the old."

There was something in the tone of the counsellor that pricked at Valentina's attention. For a moment, her teeth paused their massaging motion and her glassy blue eyes flickered upwards.

Wilson stared back. Acknowledgement was something of a victory in itself. She continued with a firmer, confident tone. "I think I understand somewhat now. The idea of accepting help requires trust, and that can be _hard._ You feel trapped, _alone_ even. That's normal, most _would_ in your situation but-"

The chair clattered backwards and before Wilson could even cry out, the mug of tea she usually offered Valentina was crashing into the egg coloured wall. The young girl stared coldly back at Wilson, her fists tight and stance wide like a fighter. For a moment, Wilson was shocked, excited even. She didn't even care about the act of violence outside their code of conduct, or even the fact that she would now have to call in the cleaners early. Because she had seen that _spark,_ that sharp energy that this girl possessed, and that was exactly what she had been looking for.

It quickly evaporated. The moment passed, and like the dawn of winter, she wilted back to her previous state. Valentina stared blankly at Wilson from across the desk that separated them, her hands relaxed and gaze empty yet again. With a monotone voice, Valentina spoke for the first time in several sessions, purpose and clear cut finality in her words. "Goodbye, Mrs Wilson." And with one hand draped behind her to snag the scalf she had left on a hook behind the door, Wilson saw the last of Morani.

The room felt considerably lighter, yet deathly silent in her absence.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, only this storyline, my OCs and my artwork.**

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Unforgivable Habits

Chapter 1

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 _"The old resists the new one._  
 _'Change hurts' is the reason."_  
― Toba Beta, Betelgeuse Incident: Insiden Bait Al-Jauza

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Valentina stared through her port hole window, watching the swooning sunset glide over the cold body of the airplane. Cream landscapes dulled by industry and newly laid tarmac simmered below, the heat of the open sun baking them. Already she had shed her knitted sweater, and was regretting wearing a long sleeved shirt. Her hands ghosted over a loose thread on her right arm, twirling and occasionally tugging it absentmindedly.

She squeezed her hands over her ears to dull the throb of them popping under the swiftly changing pressure as the plane began its descent. As the sleeping passenger next to her groaned and awoke, they stretched, the wide angle of their arms sending an unpleasant odour of fading Lynx deodorant. Valentina glared at the man, though it unfortunately unseen.

Her feet hurt as well as the shoulder that served as a hanger for her bulbous duffel bag. A large chrome suit case rolled behind her, narrowly missing several loose children as she maneuvered herself towards the pick up bay. Her eyes searched for a familiar sign to direct her once she reached the crowd of people awaiting the passengers of her flight.

She took a moment to notice a tall gangly man with messy auburn hair and glasses at the edge, one hand deep in his pocket while the other had his index finger and thumb holding up a sign with 'Morani' in bold. After flickering her blue eyes up to his matching ones, Valentina followed the swinging movement of the sign as she went to meet him.

The older man seemed to be on the cusp of his twenties, awkward and long limbed like herself. With a twitching half smile he asked, "Valentina? It's good to meet you." He shook her hand, quickly letting go once the formality was over. "I'm your cousin Andrew."

"Where's my uncle?" she asked with mild curiosity she couldn't hide. After all she was in a new continent.

Andrew folded the sign and hastily stuck it in the back pocket of his old jeans. "He's actually arriving back in the city tomorrow night. A hunting buddy of his is dropping him off."

Valentina started to wander with Andrew towards the exit, nodding in thanks when he took her suit case. "Does Uncle Harold go hunting often?"

"Oh yeah, it's a big hobby of his." Andrew said, his lilting american accent holding her attention. "Dad tried teaching me when was younger like his dad did for him, but it's not my thing. I only go occasionally for 'family bonding time'." He chuckled, then coughed nervously and hurried onwards when the little girl merely stared back at him. "We cleared out the spare room to be your new bedroom before Dad left. Its pretty good, large and has a good view. The local school's close by as well, only a couple of minutes away..."

Valentina mutely nodded to the rhythm of the conversation, her gut writhing as it prodded her with memories of her old home and family.

The city was loud, its ferocity shaking her nerves even though her only exposure to it was the car ride through the city to her cousin's home. It was three stories high, long and narrow and constructed of a worn grey brick. It stood proudly in a quiet area on the outskirts of the city, a wide circular window in the attic blinking down at them like a cyclops. A thick wall cut a wide rectangle around the property, hiding the small clearing of grass, trees and newly planted flowers in the garden. A metal fire escape ran up the side of the building, secured up out of reach. The foot path from the creaking iron gate lead up the alcove that was held up by two stone pillars, the burgundy door within adorned with a brass lion head with the knocking ring in its mouth.

After Andrew dug around his inner coat pocket and hastily let her in, he went back to close the iron garden gate and followed her. The dry breeze was halted from entering the house as the door clicked shut. "Well, we're here!" He smiled cautiously down at her, the slump of his shoulders showing how glad her was to be back. "Could you take your shoes off? Yeah, just put them in the closet next to you. Any shelf, doesn't matter."

Valentina nodded mutely, doing as he said. She rubbed her feet together against the dark hardwood floor, observing the long corridor that was lit up with old victorian gas lights, though they had been altered to accommodate modern bulbs. The ceiling was high and arched, creating shadows along the upper walls. There was a thick, saturated musk throughout the house, not unpleasant but warm and indicated how old it was. Several closed doors stood, some agar to leave a view of rooms decorated in wine reds and lavish bronzes, thick carpets, dark wood furniture and volumes of books a common sight.

Andrew led her through the door at the end of the corridor, pushing it open to reveal a wide room filled with burly sofas, artwork in wood or metal frames and a dead fireplace, with several small coffee tables and a rust coloured piano in the corner. Valentina brushed her hand along the velvet drapes on the back of an armchair as they passed, following her cousin through a curved archway to the kitchen. Unlike the rest of the decor, it had a cold tone to it; three walls were furnished with dark green cabinets with black counter tops, a few replaced with a fridge and an oven. A small table with four chairs was pushed into one corner, while a black board hung on one cupboard with a box of chalk and a dusty eraser.

"Are you hungry?"

Valentina shook her head, then paused. "Can I have some water?"

He smiled, opening a cupboard full of glasses and mugs and used the water filter before passing it to her. She gulped it down quickly as he talked. "I'll show you how to use the appliances later. Wanna see upstairs?"

"Hn." Was his reply.

The staircase was through another archway in the living room and winded up the entire building with landings for each floor. On the second there was her Uncle Harold's bedroom, the study, the main bathroom and a small library. The top floor, what Valentina had originally thought was the attic from outside, was split into three rooms, though the hallway outside was wider and served as a smaller sitting area with a TV. Apparently Harold thought that television sucked away brain cells or something or other, so Andrew was the only one who ever used it.

There was then Andrew's bedroom, a bathroom for them to share and Valentina's own bedroom. The room like the rest of the house was handsome with a comfortably large bed, a wardrobe and a classic writing desk with a chair, all made of the same dark indian rose wood with an ochre pattern of wildflowers and vines. Most of the walls held empty shelves. The floor was of timber and creaked, though a few thick carpets lay around. It contained the cyclops window, with several layers of thick rouge and gold drapes that matched the bed's own duvet and pillows. The window pane jutted out, the curve of the wall hugging it in a secluded oval shape. A worn oil painting hung above the desk, depicting some greek titan pulling itself from out of the rubble of a crumbling mountain. Like the rest of the top floor, the walls were exactly the same as the outside, a dark grey brick with thick timber beams supporting it.

"This used to be my big brother's room." Andrew informed her as he leaned in the doorway.

Valentina looked around the room, trying to imagine a taller version of her cousin, perhaps with a more weathered face and a beard. She wasn't too surprised to find out she had another family member that she never knew existed; her parents had been very secluded from the rest of her relations for various reasons. "Where is he now?"

"Jonathan's in the army, stationed in South Korea at the moment. He doesn't tell us much about it, only that he's part of the SOF." Andrew answered. "He writes to us when he can though, and I think it's better than being in Iraq with IS at the moment."

"What made him join?" Valentina mused, her face tilted to watch a woman passing their house through the window.

Andrew chuckled. "Not a clue. Johnny never said a thing about ever wanting to. He went to college, got a degree in engineering then came home one day say that he had enrolled instead of signing up for a masters. Dad was _not_ happy about that."

"Not a patriot?" Valentina said, not particularly bothered whether he was or not, but supposed that she should know this new family a little better.

"Only as much as the next guy. Dad's proud of him and all, but he worries. None of us were ready for him to leave like that." Valentina didn't answer, turning her back as again. It seemed that she was done talking for the day, but considering how she had been before and what social services had said to him about her behaviour, Andrew was happy with the amount of interaction.

"I'll bring your bags up." He offered.

His gaze saddened as he watched the younger girl look around helplessly in her new world, but after receiving her curt nod, decided to leave her alone.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT, only this storyline, my OCs and my artwork.**

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Unforgivable Habits

Chapter 2

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 _"Reality continues to ruin my life."_

― Bill Watterson, The Complete Calvin and Hobbes

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Her Uncle Harold turned out to be a leathery skinned, sharp blue eyed man with fading auburn hair like his sun and cataracts in his eyes. He hated coffee, seemed to growl or bark every sentence and Valentina soon found that there was little difference in his normal glare and his angered one. After a grim family dinner together, he told her to look him in the eye, or he'd assume that she was hiding something.

She couldn't help but like the old man.

Her school term started a week after she arrived. In that time Andrew managed to drag her all over the neighbourhood, even walking her to school the day before so that she knew her way. He was a kind man, Valentina couldn't deny that; as grumpy and snappish as his father was, Andrew was equally soft tempered and cheerful. Neither seemed to mind that she wasn't a talker, and never mentioned the reasons for her presence.

The city still unnerved her. It was loud all around, no safe area to turn her back to. If it wasn't for her cousin's insistence, Valentina would have stayed inside the house, which she admitted to liking. Modern decor looked too clinical in her opinion, and the smell of the timber beams that held up the old building calmed her.

She entered the chain linked gates of the school with apprehension, her hands hanging in the pockets of her grey coat by the thumbs while she marched in her beaten down brogues to the front entrance. Kids were filling in behind her, loudly re grouping with missed friends and creating a buzz of white noise alongside the beeping life of the city. The school was a very large one, made of large sandstone slabs and divided into both a middle school and high school, the main office and staff facilities separating them as a weak banner of authority.

Valentina pushed through the double doors, mildly irritated that the air conditioning flickered at the escaping curls of her pony tail. There were several burgundy seat in the waiting area, a beech wood desk with an open window into the secretary's booth to the right. Valentina paused at the desk to gain the bone thin lady's attention. In a dry voice she coughed and said, "Hi, I'm a new student. I was told to come here first thing."

"Yes, good, you're in the right place." The woman said briskly, not even looking up from the computer screen she was entranced by. "Name?"

"Morani."

After tapping away at her PC, the secretary nodded and stood to retrieve the paper that spat out of the printer. "Read and sign this document, and I'll give you your map. You'll have homeroom first in block A, R11."

"What is this?" Valentina mumbled as she read the typed up page.

"Consent form, legal necessity to state that you agree to the school's code of conduct and that you agree to be a part of the student body. The rest has already been sorted out with your guardian."

She nodded, satisfied that she wasn't selling her soul away and signed a tall and narrow signature on the space provided. After a glance at the colour coded map, she thanked the secretary and made her way to whatever the 'homeroom' was, hoping that it wasn't going to be as odious as it sounded.

Unfortunately, school was still school no matter the continent.

Homeroom turned out to be the equivalent of a form room in the UK, with a teacher to pass out notices and watch them for the first 15 minutes of the day. When she entered, most of the class was there as well as the teacher, though only the latter bothered to look up with interest when she entered. Mr Clark was a 30 something bulky man who had shaved his head into a shine for supposedly convenience's sake and seemed far more interested in his newspaper that the other 12 year old kids in the class.

Valentina greeted the man warily, in the same manner she was treating everything in this place. "I'm the new student, Sir."

The man nodded with a polite smile. "Ah, Miss Morani of the United Kingdom." He pulled at the syllables in a typical teacher's drawl. "The seat over there is a spare."

Before she could make it to the secluded window seat, Mr Clark called for attention. "Alright zip it folks. Class, Valentina Morani. Moran, class. Keep the meet and greets contained till I dismiss you."

No one made an effort to disobey him and try and gain her attention, though several eyes bore into the back of head. She slowly ran her nails hard through her hair and down her scalp, as if any sharp movements would cause a dog fight.

* * *

Her body was tense the entire day. While in class she could briefly relax and listen to the monotone voices of education, lunch was the epitome of a bad high school flick. The cafeteria seemed to be divided strictly into cliques of stereotypes, and the food gave off an odd rubbery smell. After the ordered grumble from her stomach, Valentina chose a burger, soda and an apple and moved towards a half filled table of kids so nerdy looking it should have been a crime. She pulled out a worn book from her cargo pant pocket and refused to make eye contact with their bewildered stares.

She relished the taste of the questionable burger, wondering when was the last time that she had had junk food. As the warm sustenance fell to the pit of her stomach, she started to relax and pulled up a knee to lean her chin again while she read and alternated between chewing her knuckle and slurping her drink.

There were only a few minutes till the end of lunch when a boy she hadn't seen in her classes swaggered over with several others, clad in baggy jeans and a grey jumper tucked into his underwear. The only thing missing was the gold chains to match his nose ring. As Valentina looked up to meet his smirking eyes, she got the feeling that simply ignoring him wasn't going to cut it.


End file.
